LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Cliap..j'-4-. Copyright No. 

Slielf._._L_Er/ H 6 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Lenox 



American 

Summer 

Resorts 



The North Shore. By Robert 
Grant. 
With Illustrations by W. T. Smed- 
LEY. 

Newport. By W. C. Brovvnell. 
With Illustrations by W. S. Van- 
DERBiLT Allen. 

Bar Harbor. By F. Marion Craw- 
ford. 
With Illustrations by C. S. Rein- 
hart. 

Lenox. By George A. HiBBARD. 

With Illustrations by W. S. Van- 
DERBiLT Allen. 

* V * Each i2mo. Cloth. Price, 75 cents 



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s*2 




One of the Dri'ves 



AMERICAN SUMMER RESORTS 



LENOX 



BT 



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GEORGE A, HIBBARD 



ILLUSTRATED BT 

W, S, VANBERBILT ALLEN 




^^/^/77^^ 



2- 



CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

NEIV YORK MDCCCXCVI 



Copyright^ jSg4^ l8gb^ by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 






LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 







Page 


One of the Drives . 


Front I 


'spiece 


Sedgwick Hall 




' 5 


Congregational Churchy Lenox 




• 9 


A Court-yard 




' ^3 


One of the " Places " 




n 


A Model Farm Building 




21 


Forming the Flower Parade 




' ^7 


Boating on Stockbridge Bowl 




33 


Curtis' s .... 




' 39 


The Post-ofpce^ Sunday Morning's 


Mail . 


45 


The Episcopal Church 


. 


' 51 



LENOX 

THAT artless lady who has been 
known to the world for such a 
long time because of her famous wonder 
as to how it happened that large rivers 
always ran past large towns, and who com- 
mented favorably upon such an advan- 
tageous arrangement of things, might have 
wondered as to the "why" of Lenox. 
She might have wondered, perhaps, but it 
would almost seem that, in this case, in 
spite of her engaging intellectual misad- 
justments, she must have put the horse 
before the cart, and announced that Lenox 
" was " for the simple reason that nature 
had fitted it so to be. Granted literally 
the "premises," the hills and the lakes, 
and the place that has grown up, is, as it 
were, an inevitable logical conclusion. 



Lenox Thcrc are many who do not care for the 
mountains, and there are many who do 
not wilHngly seek the sea, and to these 
Lenox offers a perfect mean. 

There is a number of other reasons for 
the continuance and the permanence of Le- 
nox, but it is safe to say that its " first 
cause " was, or that its " first causes " 
were, the changing country, the woods 
with the frequent, fragrant clumps of pine, 
and the sky across which the clouds drifted 
so serenely day after day. Of Newport, 
of Bar Harbor, of the North Shore, 
and of Lenox, the last is the only one 
without the sea, and this, of course, is 
the chief characteristic in which it differs 
from the others, and, with such a difference, 
the dissimilarity must be very great. 
Where the sea is there is unrest, and at 
all the others it is impossible to escape 
the consciousness of the ever-changing, 
all-absorbing ocean. But at Lenox that 
disturbing element is wholly absent, and 
there is, above all else, a sense of peace 
and calm that is missing at the first three. 



Indeed, It may be written that the first and ^^""^ 
the lasting impression made by Lenox is 
one of quietness and rest, and there are 
other reasons for this besides the absence 
of the luring and troubling waste of waters. 
Lenox, almost more than any of the 
other three places, seems to have the air of 
having always " been." Newport may be 
as old, but the Newport that is now 
known — the characteristic Newport — 
seems much newer, for Lenox in some 
mysterious way has gathered up some- 
thing of the old life, and has carried it on 
and made it a part of the new, and this 
feeling of continuation certainly tends to 
make it the reposeful abiding place it is. 
Lenox, as Mr. Henry James says in his 
" Life of Hawthorne," has " suffered the 
process of lionization," but it has more 
gently or more skillfully shaded into what 
it is now than the rest which have left 
more behind. One does not think of it 
as having been "discovered" as Bar Har- 
bor was discovered, well within the mem- 
ory of even the middle-aged diner-out. 

3 



Lenox Society was represented, and gracefully 
represented, at Lenox, years ago in many 
a great, white, elm-shaded house. It 
seems that there never can have been any- 
thing crude about it at any time. The 
famous Bar Harbor story of the " summer 
boarder" who asked his landlord if he 
should put his boots outside his door, and 
was promptly informed that there was not 
the slightest danger that " anybody would 
tech 'em," is a tale that could never con- 
ceivably have been told of Lenox. 

The Berkshire seems always to have 
been civilized, and indeed it is an old 
country. The ancient houses and the 
good roads prove this — those good Berk- 
shire roads to which we Americans can 
always turn with assurance, when taunted 
by our English friends — as our English 
friends will sometimes taunt us — with the 
condition of our common highways. And 
indeed these Lenox roads are blessings 
that must be appreciated by anyone who 
has driven much in other parts of the 
country. The relief that is afforded by 

4 



the knowledge that before him He miles Lemx 
of firm, sure ways, is very comfortable, and 
freedom from constant thought of his 
horses, enables him to enjoy the more 
fully the glorious country that rolls about 
him. And what a land it is ! It would 
seem that no fault could be found with the 
Berkshire scenery, and the only fault ever 
found with it that came within the notice 
of the writer, was one of surfeit rather than 
of any lack of satisfaction. But if there is 
any difficulty with the Berkshire landscape, 
it is in the number of its brooks. Two, 
three, or half a dozen are all very well, 
but when, in effect, they seem endless, and 
everyone apparently more delightful than 
the others, it is different. You start into 
quick enthusiasm at the sight of the first, 
tumbling clear and cool over its rocky bed 
— here in quiet pools catching reflected 
gleams of color — there breaking over 
scattered rocks into flaky foam. You are 
charmed by the second and decidedly 
interested in the third. But you cannot 
keep it up. Power of admiration is al- 

7 



Lenox most lost and your superlatives quite ex- 
hausted. There was once upon a time, an 
impressionable but easily wearied mortal, 
who was heard to remark, after he had 
been taken for a Berkshire drive, that he 
was ^^ blase on brooks." 

But though the Berkshires are often 
called, in a general way, Lenox, still 
Lenox is by no manner of means the 
Berkshires. Lenox is something quite 
separate and independent and different. 
It is a distinct locality and the centre of 
the life round about. Lenox was a place 
of considerable importance before it be- 
came a place of great importance, but of 
an importance of a different kind. It was 
a very distinguished, self-respecting New 
England village before it became the 
"smart" place, with more or less " swag- 
ger " attributes, that it is to-day. The 
traditions, however, of its former state 
still abide, and influence and color its 
present condition. The Congregational 
Church was a good deal of a building for 
the New England of the latter part of the 







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last century, though it is a " far cry " from Lemx 
it to the latest palace-cottage ; but the 
older still exists, at least holds its own, 
and will not be put down. Indeed it may 
be said that Lenox — the village — is old, 
and that what is new, lies, for the most 
part, about it. Along the wide main 
street there are many houses in which 
dwell the temporary sojourners ; but they 
are almost all of an earlier date, or have 
been made over to fit modern require- 
ments. 

When approaching from the north, as 
the visitor generally approaches Lenox, it 
it is only after he has driven through the 
wide main street, after the actual village 
is passed, that there comes the first full 
realization of all that has made the place 
what it is. There may have been glimpses 
along the Pittsfield road of roofs and por- 
ticos, but nothing to give any idea of the 
glories to follow. The chief memory of 
this approach to Lenox will be of a gate- 
way standing at the beginning of a grass- 
grown drive that turns aside from the main 



II 



Lenox highway. There are flanking supports 
against which the weeds bend and over 
which the boughs droop, and through the 
iron traceries of the gate itself there appears 
a dark verdancy that is melancholy and 
impressive. It is a gateway that offers 
great suggestion of possible romance. 
The imagination may wander through it 
into all sorts of things, and if it has no 
history it ought to have one, and anybody 
who has been properly brought up upon 
solid English fiction of the country-family 
sort, with lots of ghosts in it, will at once 
proceed to make one after his own heart. 
But this gateway is almost all that is in 
the least unkempt about Lenox, and it is 
perhaps for this reason that it has hung, 
as the writer has discovered, in the mem- 
ories of many others besides himself. 

All in Lenox is tended, trim, and tidy. 
The usual neatness of a New England 
village is apparent everywhere, and more 
too, for there are park-like innovations in 
the way of care that are lacking in many 
other Massachusetts townlets. And this 



12 



m 





guarded regard for appearance Is still an- 1^'"°^ 
other thing that gives Lenox its air of re- 
pose, to come back to the quality to which 
one must be always returning who speaks 
of Lenox at all. There are other streets 
than the one main street — streets running 
from it at various slanting angles, and on 
some of them the first country houses 
begin. But it is when you go a little 
farther into the open toward the south and 
west that the largest " places " are to be 
found. And large is the word that best 
describes them. They are large — larger 
in reality or in seeming, than the other 
" villas " of other places. Great structures 
they are, of wood and of stone, ornate and 
severe. Queen Anne — although Queen 
Anne may at last be said to be dead — 
colonial and, so to speak, composite — re- 
miniscent, but all of them evidently pearls 
of price, and many the results of an im- 
mense expenditure. Crassus is under- 
stood to have said with a fine scorn, that 
he alone could be called rich who could 
support an army ; but for practical modern 



Lenox purposcs the construction and mainten- 
ance of one of these great Lenox abodes 
might well be taken by the richest of the 
Romans as a test, and even as a rather 
severe standard of wealth. There are not 
only two or three, but there is a consider- 
able number of them, and that number is 
growing every year. The land which 
once was valued for its possibilities in 
raising potatoes, holds quite a different 
price when its worth is determined by its 
adaptability for raising palaces. There 
are strange stories of the sudden apprecia- 
tion in price of old farms all through this 
part of the country, but there are no more 
marvellous tales told anywhere than those 
recounted of the advance of Lenox real 
estate. Tens have been used as multi- 
pliers, and now almost all the best land is 
"out of the market.'' 

There are two lakes — the Stockbridge 
Bowl, or Lake Mackeenac, and Laurel 
Lake — about which the country houses 
are chiefly gathered ; but it is on the east 
side of the Bowl, and up and down and 

i6 




One 

of the 
''Places 



around Its ends, that perhaps the largest Lenox 
and finest are to be found. There are 
others between the Bowl and Laurel Lake, 
and all around the latter, but then there 
are country houses everywhere in this 
land — on nearly every good spot, and 
sometimes, so anxious are people for 
" places," on spots that are not so good. 
The new-comer is shown these, one after 
another, with the mention of some familiar 
contemporaneous name, and gradually he 
becomes very much mixed up, or else the 
houses do, and, in retrospect, he sees 
vague conglomerate shapes never dreamt 
of by any respectable architect, or, if so 
dreamt, then in a nightmare in which the 
porte cochere of one millionaire is put upon 
the spreading wing of another, and the 
stack of chimneys from the dwelling of 
this magnate upon the sloping roofs of 
that. He asks is this the place of So- 
and-So only to be told that it is the cot- 
tage of Some-One-Else, and it requires 
days before he can get them sorted out. 
Then how proud he is, and how glibly, 

19 



Lenox ^y ^^y of tcstlng hls Information, he 
hastens to inform his informant, with 
still a slight questioning inflection, it is 
true, but with almost a tone of proprietor- 
ship. 

But in connection with " places," there 
is one experience that is peculiar and in a 
measure significant. It is very distinctly 
within the memory of the writer that, hav- 
ing been driven, one gray afternoon, along 
miles of road that lie around and among 
the well-kept grounds that surround many 
a great country house, and after having 
had these costly structures, as it were, pa- 
raded before his eyes, he was driven along 
a road that ran upon the crest of a hill, on 
one side of which were fields that extended 
down a sharp declivity. Between the 
fence and the beginning of the descent 
there was a small plateau, on which the 
weeds waved in the freshening evening 
breeze. There, in the field, was what at 
first appeared hardly more than a some- 
what pronounced inequality in the ground, 
it was only upon looking more closely 



20 



A Model 

Farm 

Building 




that it was possible to discover a number Le, 
of stones arranged in what seemed irregu- 
lar heaps. They were moss-covered, and 
the grass had grown up so tall and thick 
that they could hardly be distinguished at 
all. "That was Hawthorne's house," he 
was told. It was noticeable that the in- 
terest with which this ragged remnant of 
an abode was indicated, differed but little 
in its expression from the manner and tone 
with which some great villa had been 
brought to notice. And, indeed, that sad 
little cairn is one of the "show places" of 
Lenox, as much as any proud residence 
on the shore of either lake. It may be 
that this is because of our pathetic Amer- 
ican craving for anything picturesque — 
that feeling that leads us to make the most 
of the slightest Revolutionary relic, and 
feel the pulse of our emotions as we gaze 
upon any vestige of a scarcely vanished 
past. It may be because of this, but it is 
true that even in this so-called materialis- 
tic age, and in this place where materialism 
may be said to offer one of its finest and 

23 



Lenox most luxuHous displays, the remains of 
the " small red house " are, and long will 
be, distinguishable and distinguished. 

Hawthorne came to Lenox in 1850, 
and remained there only until the autumn 
of 1 851, and there is hardly anything of 
the charm of age, or long continuance in 
place, to give his presence there its still 
abiding influence. But he lived there ; 
there wrote " The House of the Seven 
Gables," and there imparted to the place 
an enduring interest that has something 
of the charm peculiar to himself Fred- 
rika Bremer, writing from the New World, 
and from Lenox at the time when the 
Hawthornes were there, speaks of the 
prospect from the small dwelling : " Im- 
mediately in front of Hawthorne's house 
lies one of those small, clear lakes, with its 
sombre margin of forest which characterize 
this district, and Hawthorne seems greatly 
to enjoy the view of it and the wildly 
wooded country." She adds, after spend- 
ing an evening at the house : " His amia- 
ble wife is inexpressibly happy to see him 

24 



so happy here. A smile, a word, conveys ^^"^^ 
more to her than long speeches from other 
people. She reads his very soul, — and 
' he is the best of husbands.' " 

It was about 1833 that Mrs. Kemble 
brought herself and her fame to the Berk- 
shires, and became very directly associated 
with Lenox in the minds of all. She came 
there first for a visit — and she stayed, off 
and on, for thirty years — stayed on as 
many another has stayed, who at first had 
no such intention. 

Mrs. Kemble always felt about Lenox 
very strongly, and wrote about it very 
warmly. Again, to quote Mr. James, al- 
though the words are not from the book 
mentioned before : " Late in life she 
looked upon this region as an Arcadia, a 
happy valley, a land of woods and waters 
and upright souls." A description that 
she has given conveys an excellent idea of 
a characteristic Lenox scene. Writing 
from New York in 1838, she says : " Im- 
mediately sloping before me, the green 
hillside, on the summit of which stands 

as 



Lenox the house I am inhabiting, sinks softly 
down to a small valley filled with a rich, 
thick wood, in the centre of which a little 
jewel-like lake lies dreaming. Beyond this 
valley the hills rise one above another to 
the horizon, where they scoop the sky 
with a broken, irregular outline, that the 
eye dwells on with ever new delight, as its 
colors glow and vary with the ascending or 
descending sunlight and all the shadowy 
procession of the clouds. In one direc- 
tion, this undulating line of distance is 
overtopped by a considerable mountain, 
with a fine jagged crest, and ever since 
early morning troops of clouds, and wan- 
dering showers of rain, and the all-prevail- 
ing sunbeams have chased each other over 
the wooded slopes, and down into the 
dark hollow where the lake lies sleeping, 
making a pageant far finer than the one 
Prospero raised for Ferdinand and Mi- 
randa on his desert island." 

There are drives about Lenox — drives 
without end and in all directions, but there 
is no " drive." That is, there is no place 

26 




Forming 
the 

Floiver 
Parade 



where " society " gathers with its equi- Lenox 
pages, for purposes of display, and where 
is held, as is so often the case in other 
places all the world over, a sort of informal 
" dress parade." There is no spot where 
you can go with the absolute certainty of 
seeing "every one," or where you can as- 
certain from day to day how " everybody" 
is looking, or who happens to be with 
whom — or who doesn't. In localities 
where society gathers there is usually such 
a "drive," and a daily appearance in it is 
something of a necessity, but Lenox does 
not seem to suffer from the lack of it. 

There is a great deal of driving, but it 
is done all over, for there is no direction 
in which there are not good roads, and 
hardly one where there are not good 
views. You may meet the smartest sort 
of a trap spinning along through some se- 
cluded wood, or making its way over the 
spur of some remote hill. There are all 
kinds of vehicles, from the most stately 
coach to the tiniest village cart in which 
children drive a pony hardly larger than a 

29 



Lenox dog and quite as reliable ; and it is safe to 
say that driving rather than riding is the 
feature of the place. There is a great deal 
of riding, but it is rather of the park order, 
and not of that steady, business-like, soul- 
absorbing sort that is to be found where 
more " cross-country " work is possible. 
With the broken and often precipitous 
nature of the land there is little chance for 
" popping " over a fence and having a run 
on the grass, and equestrians generally 
keep sedately along the roads. This con- 
dition of things naturally has for result the 
displacement of " horse " from the proud 
and commanding position it generally 
holds as a subject for conversation. You 
do talk horse and you do hear horse 
talked at Lenox, for where now, even if 
one so desired, is it possible to escape it .^ 
But it is not with the detail and variety 
and vigor with which the subject is treated 
at Hempstead, say, or in the Genesee Val- 
ley — or even at Newport. 

And just as there is no particularly 
recognized " drive " in which society must 

30 



show itself, so there seems to be no sped- ^^"^^ 
fied^hour" at which the display should 
come off. Society may be found abroad, 
as it may be everywhere else, in the after- 
noon — in. the late afternoon — but there is 
no compulsion about this, and " all 
Lenox " is rarely seen together anywhere 
or at any time. One must not forget, 
however, one manifestation of " horse " — 
although " horse " is subordinate — that is 
or was quite peculiar to Lenox. Its an- 
nual "Flower Parade " has been tried else- 
where but with what was only a very mild 
success when it was not a dismal failure. 
At Lenox there seem to have been some 
constituent qualities that have enabled this 
ceremony literally to flourish for a number 
of years, although now it certainly shows 
signs of a declining vogue. 

There is a great deal of walking, for the 
country is most admirably fitted for it, and 
the grounds of the greater number of the 
big places are not forbidden to the world. 
It is very pleasant to stroll leisurely along 
the spring floor of yielding needles under 

31 



Lenox the spreading pine-woods, and to breathe 
the cool, aromatic air ; and it is very 
pleasant, when you have convinced your- 
self that you are tired, to sit upon some 
stone about which the moss has disposed 
itself with wonderful effectiveness, and 
watch one of the multitudinous brown 
brooks go tumbling past. But this is not 
the walking in which the enthusiasts 
usually indulge. They are off for tramps 
" over the hills and far away," and talk of 
miles covered and the number of minutes 
in which they have been done. 

It formerly could have been said that, 
on the water, Lenox did not disport itself 
at all. The larger of the Lakes — the 
Stockbridge Bowl — is not really large 
enough for sailing, and it was seldom that 
even a rowboat was seen upon it. Of 
course people went upon the lakes, but it 
was not a practice that formed an essen- 
tial part of the Lenox life. The creation 
of the Mackeenac Boat Club and the erec- 
tion of the boathouse are quite recent 
affairs. Now there is much more done in 

32 




Boating on 
Stockbridge 
Boivl 




the way of boating than there once was, ^^"°^ 
but, still, Lenox cannot be said to be 
aquatic. 

The peculiar time of the " Lenox sea- 
son," in great measure, prescribes the con- 
ditions of its life. The people who have 
gone to Europe in May, returned in July 
for a stay at Bar Harbor that may extend 
into the first week of August, and then 
have hurried on to Newport, generally 
bring up in Lenox in late September and 
early October. That is the proper man- 
ner in which to end the summer ; and, as 
everyone knows, Lenox in the early 
autumn is at its gayest. Much happens 
during the earlier months, and there are 
very many charming people there who do 
delightful things, but it is in September 
and October that the " crowd " comes and 
every one " rushes '* more or less madly 
for a short time. All the resources ot 
society are drawn upon to the utmost and 
all its powers put in play. Then there 
are teas and dinners and small dances and 
large ballsj as well as all the miscellaneous 

35 



Lenox amusements of the gay world, from pic- 
nics to private theatricals. In October it 
is no longer summer, and there is much 
that is not done outdoors. Indeed, there 
is more indoor entertainment than out in 
Lenox in the season, and with the early 
evenings you drive to a dinner with some- 
thing of the feeling of the town. 

There are often rainy days, and what 
days they are in a huge country-house, 
with a large and active house-party ! The 
rain beats against the panes, but it beats 
a lively tattoo for mustering jollity. There 
is laughter indoors and there are many 
devices for passing the time. A house- 
party is the mother of invention, and the 
schemes that can be devised by a dozen 
bright young people, thrown together for 
even a short time, are very various. There 
are games and " parlor tricks " without 
end, and always those skirmishings of boy 
or girl, or man and woman, that happens 
just now in the English language to be 
called " flirtation " — not such a very old 
word, and one at the making of which 

36 



Lord Chesterfield says he assisted person- Ler.ox 
ally, as it " dropped from the most beau- 
tiful mouth in the world " — the mouth, 
it may be presumed, of " beautiful Molly 
Lepell." 

" House-parties " are not confined, it is 
true, to Lenox, but the great size of the 
houses there makes them very common 
and very constant, and it was at Lenox, as 
much, if not more than anywhere else, 
that the practice of bringing a lot of peo- 
ple under the same roof, — a practice taken 
from the other side, and with the changing 
conditions of American society now accli- 
matized or naturalized — at first found fit- 
ting opportunity for introduction. 

As Lenox has no prescribed " drive " 
nor '' hour," so it has no central and ac- 
knowledged gathering place. It has no 
Casino and no Kebo Valley Club. But 
such places are not really needed. In 
Lenox the season is much shorter than at 
either Newport or Bar Harbor, and the 
time is well filled up with private enter- 
tainments. Indeed, it is sometimes rather 

37 



Lenox too wcll filled up, and the pleasure of see- 
ing the place must be foregone for the de- 
lights of seeing the people. It is often 
very gay, the people seem anxious to 
make the best of what must be the last of 
the country before they " go to town." 

The question of " cottage " life or "ho- 
tel " life has never agitated Lenox, because 
of a rather peculiar condition of affairs. 
The huge caravansaries that are continu- 
ally springing up elsewhere have never 
appeared here. There is one hotel and 
only one — and this, in great measure, is an 
institution, and has become an important 
part of Lenox. Its fame is not by any 
means local. "Curtis's" is known not only 
in this country but has been mentioned in 
others. It is a big, old structure rising 
on the main street at the very centre of 
things, across the way from its only possi- 
ble rival in general consideration, the post- 
office, of which more must be said presently. 
Of late years it has received an addition — 
a wing in which is the dining-room ; and 
there may be found at the breakfast hour 

38 






Curtis s 




many who are well known in clubland and ^^""^ 
ballroomdom. There, are shigle men, the 
" overflow of house-parties," and there, 
are the heads of families living in cottages 
rented near by, who come to the hotel for 
the meals of the day, which generally are 
not supplied with the houses. And there, 
are matrons and maids and fresh young 
children who would certainly disprove the 
objection to their kind made long ago bv 
the Germans, that they never satisfy the 
aesthetic. There are generally to be found, 
as the season draws toward its close, the 
emissaries of other countries who have 
been the rounds and who are now com- 
pleting the summer before returning to 
Washington. 

Almost every one whom " one knows" 
has been there ; and it is curious to bring 
"Curtis's" to the recollection of some 
woman no longer young and to see how 
quickly the name vivifies many glimmer- 
ing memories. It was there that Such 
and Such a one was first met, and such 
and such a thing was once done ; and, if 

41 



Lenox you wlll scclc a little farther, you may find 
that the spot is dear to her for other 
memories, and that as often as not some 
love-affair has been played out about and 
within those walls of which she still thinks 
tenderly. It is difficult not to be personal, 
and in this one case it is perhaps permis- 
sible to be so. The host has so much to 
do with the fame of the hostelry, that as 
a public character, it may be possible to 
speak of him without too great indiscre- 
tion. It was once the fortune of the 
writer to assist at an interview between a 
very celebrated and distinguished person- 
age indeed and the potentate of Curtis's, 
and surely, the graciousness of royalty was 
never better manifestsd than in the meet- 
ing of these powers. 

Across the street, or, more accurately, 
at an angle on a near corner, stands, as 
has been said, the only real competitor of 
" Curtis's** for popular consideration. It 
also is an " institution," and holds a po- 
sition of singular importance. There, 
sooner or later, you seem always to "bring 

42 



up," and twice and even thrice in a day -^^"''^ 
you may find yourself at this point of in- 
terest. Every one goes there, and there, 
at one time or another between morning 
and evening, you may be pretty sure of 
meeting every one you know. The char- 
acter of a ''post-office " is really lost, and 
the place has become almost a resort of 
society. If it be quite safe to say so, it 
partakes of the nature of a " social ex- 
change," and is a cross between a " Ca- 
sino " and, in its informality of access and 
general sociability, of the " country store." 
One who once tarried in Lenox — after 
having been taken to the post-office three 
times in one day where he saw many part- 
ings and meetings and heard many matters 
thoroughly discussed — was heard to re- 
mark that he considered the office of post- 
master in Lenox the most desirable social 
position in the United States, and an- 
nounced his intention, as he was naturally 
of a gregarious disposition, of immediately 
applying for the position. 

It Is at Sunday noon that the post-office 

43 



Lenox appears in all its glory. When church is 
over, the greater number of worshippers 
seem to turn in the direction of the small 
low building on the corner ; and so large 
is the throng making way thither that, at 
Lenox, there really is a regular weekly 
"church parade." On the sidewalk, be- 
fore the mail is opened, and while it is 
being distributed, there is often quite a 
crowd, and conversation is most lively and 
interesting. There, you may hear all that 
has been and much that is going to be, 
and from this informal congress you may 
come away a thoroughly informed person, 
wholly supplied with all the knowledge 
that will be necessary for use in the social 
world for the following week at least. 
There are other centres in other places 
that may be of equal consequence in the 
life of those dwelling in them, but in 
Lenox it is safe to say that all roads lead 
to the post-office, and that it has a focal 
value that is not often found. 

There is a club at Lenox, a regular 
"man's" club ; and it is a very delightful, 

44 




The 

Post-ojffice, 
Sunday 
Morning'' s 
Mail 



although not a very large affair. You go -^^""^ 
to it and hear of it, but there is a quiet- 
ness about it that gives it a charm that 
many clubs lack. The spirit of Lenox 
life seems even to have influenced it, and 
there you find a dignified seclusion and a 
leisurely restfulness that, to say the least, 
are unusual and very delightful. It is an 
idyl of club life, and quite different from 
its counterpart of the town. Indeed, all 
through Lenox there is a strange mingling 
of the sylvan and the urban. You may 
have the pleasures and relaxations of the 
country, but you need not necessarily be 
uncomfortable ; and you are not obliged to 
abandon the perfected resources of civiliza- 
tion while enjoying them. As in a good 
specimen of landscape gardening there are 
often simplicity and a simulated wildness, 
so in the formalities of Lenox life there 
are always refreshing bits and surprises of 
nature, and much is gained by the con- 
trasts. 

Lenox never seems to have passed 
through any uncertain or tentative state. 

47 



Lenox Progress has not been so sudden or so 
sensational as in several other popular 
" resorts," but it has been very steady, and 
to-day Lenox is more popular and famous 
than at any other time in its history. And 
it is pretty safe to say that its glory will 
never decrease. It is too firmly estab- 
lished in the regard of many to make it 
likely that there will be any lessening in 
the number or fervor of its devotees 
Then, too, with so much there already, it 
is almost a necessary consequence that 
there should be more. With so much al- 
ready " put into the country " it seems 
certain that more will continually be ex- 
pended, and that where there are so many 
"vested interests " nothing can ever really 
be disturbed. But there are interests that 
more firmly than any pecuniary ones must 
make Lenox a lasting reality. It has a 
place in the minds and hearts of hundreds 
who have known it, and there are few who 
have once felt its subtle charm who have 
been able or have cared to escape its 
gently coercive power. 

48 



Much as has been done for Lenox in Lenox 
the way of added attractions, there is one 
thing that it has done for itself, or rather 
that nature has done for it, that has given 
it a particular name and fame. A long 
time ago people used to send to their 
friends abroad particularly brilliant speci- 
mens of our gorgeous autumn foliage, and 
were rewarded by the expressions ofaston- 
ment and admiration with which such gifts 
from the New World were received. The 
friends probably thought such splendor a 
very natural part of our savage crudeness, 
but they were pleased nevertheless with 
such attractive curiosities, and our Amer- 
can autumn leaves acquired a wide repu- 
tation and came to be considered one of 
the peculiar native products of the country. 
Of all places in which to seek examples of 
them it has long been conceded that Lenox 
is the best. 

Indeed it is highly probable that, in 
some measure, the time of the Lenox 
season has been determined by this fact. 
People early fell into the habit of making 

49 



Lenox pilgrimages to see the " autumn coloring," 
and though they go now to the Berkshires 
for many other reasons, they always watch 
the foliage and talk about it. And so im- 
portant is it, that one of the recognized 
subjects of conversation is the degree of 
brilliancy that the leaves may have attained 
in any particular year, and one says that 
the coloring is " poor this year " or " good 
this year," as one might speak of a crop 
or a vintage. And it is worth seeing and 
talking about. There is nothing quite 
like it, and, for the time being, our stern 
Northern woods seem to take on a certain 
tropical splendor and equatorial profusion. 
Often the change from summer's quieter 
array to the autumn's splendid garniture 
comes gradually and, day by day, one 
sees the dark woods soften into something 
gayer. The places where shadows, in 
the strong morning sunshine, lay coldly 
blue, become a redder purple, and the 
greens a vivid yellow. But it is when the 
change comes suddenly that the great 
harlequin shift is made with the most 

5<5 






M 



lU 



k 



\ 














The 

Episcopal 

Church 



astonishing effect. Then, almost in a ^^"''^ 
night, the hills assume a new aspect, and 
you arise in the morning in a new world. 
After a sharp frost, the trees glow with 
scarlet and crimson, and the leaves spin- 
ning at the end of a branch gleam, where 
the light shows through them, with a ruby 
brightness. The whole country-side, is 
afire, and the forest ablaze in every direc- 
tion. Then, it is possible to walk through 
rattling drifts of piled-up crispness, and 
there is a mild exhilaration, not quite like 
anything else, in driving before your feet 
the shifting heaps of fallen leaves. 

But it is the color that is all important 
— a revel of hue and dye — a carousal of 
tint and tone ; and with the maple and 
sumach to lead, the results are gorgeous 
and bewildering. There is nothing hesi- 
tating or doubtful in the effect. There is 
a vivid frankness about it that makes all a 
continual surprise. Accustomed as our 
eyes are to the quieter and sadder tones of 
the landscape painters of other lands, if it 
were not for its royal magnificence, we 

53 



Lenox might think it tawdry and even vulgar. 
But there is a certain imperial power in 
the display that justifies itself — that im- 
presses and controls us, and makes the 
pageant the triumph of the year. It is 
with such a setting that the life of Lenox 
is mounted; and with such a transforma- 
tion scene in the Berkshire Hills that the 
shifting high-comedy drama of American 
summer society existence comes to its 
brilliant end. 



54 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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